Sweet Victory
by Taffeh A. Llama
Summary: "Percy forgot that he was indeed a 'troubled kid' and usually when his mom walked away from a bowl of cookie dough, it was to check up on him." Features eight year old Percy, sixteen year old Percy, blue cookies, and an annoying parakeet. Oneshot. Pre-TLT and Pre-TLH. Rewrite of Cookie Caper!


**DISCLAIMER: Don't own PJO! Or Spongebob!**

* * *

It's about three in the afternoon, and Percy's sunken deeply into an old couch, eyes fixed on a slightly cracked TV. Light from a window caused a little glare, but Percy couldn't really do much about it since their curtains were extremely tattered and practically non-existent. It didn't matter to him anyway, because there was something more important at hand.

Gabe was out for the day.

Gabe was gone, which meant Percy could do whatever he pleased without fear of "disrespecting Gabe" (as his mom kindly put it). With that new-found power, the eight-year old decided to watch Spongebob because, hey, what was better than a show about a yellow sponge living in a pineapple under the sea?

_Absolutely nothing_, Percy thought to himself and grinned. His favorite episode, the marching band one, was right about to end, and he found himself jamming along to the ending song. If only he had as much soul as Spongebob's singing.

As the credits rolled, Percy couldn't help but to pout as he got off his knees— he somehow ended up on the floor while he was air guitaring— and back onto the couch, sighing as his tiny body flopped back against the cushions. He prepared himself for the next episode, lazily snuggling into a pillow.

Smelly Gabe was nowhere to be seen, and Percy was ecstatic and comfy and this Spongebob marathon was so awesome and there was nothing in the whole entire world that was better than this very moment and—

_Wait._

Did he smell... _chocolate_?

And—dare he say it—_blue food coloring_?

Percy fell off the couch (really, for someone his size, it was the only way to get off) and raced toward the dining table, hiding under it. Peeking out from the side, he watched his mom expertly twirl a whisk into a bowl. A light splatter of brown sugar decorated her blue, frilly apron and indigo tinged her light fingertips.

He grinned; she was making his absolute favorite, blue cookies. Treats like that only happened on special occasions like birthdays or little Percy miracles such as getting anything above a C- on his report card (which still hasn't happened, but whatever). He guessed that a "No Gabe Day" was as much as a miracle they were both going to get anytime soon, and that maybe it could become a sort of annual thing. Or monthly. Weekly.

Daily would be more convenient.

Either way, today was about him and his mom and blue chocolate chip cookies, also known as the bare necessities of life and basic human existence. (Yes, Percy was a total momma's boy and _no_, he was not afraid to admit it. Possibly a little embarrassed, but definitely not afraid.)

And to get those delicious cookies, he had to be sneaky, because there was no way his mom would willingly give him a cookie straight out of the oven. She'd let them sit on the tray, their wonderful blue-chocolatey aroma filling the apartment, and stare at Percy with _that look_.

And then with _that look_, she'd pick up the tray with slightly burned oven mitts and place them on top of the highest surface in the room—Percy would be seriously frowning at this point—and let them rest there.

And after that, she'd tsk (jokingly of course, but Percy couldn't tell the difference) while giving him _that look_, which he thought was totally illegal because not giving a kid fresh-baked cookies was some sort of cruel and unusual punishment, right?

Percy shook his head. He was getting severely off track. One moment he was thinking about getting blue chocolate chip cookies and then... not getting blue chocolate chip cookies.

He needed to get his priorities straight.

xxx

His mom was singing under her breath, some old tune Percy recognized from when he was younger, as she squeezed in a healthy amount of blue food coloring. The batter on the whisk changed from a light tan to a blue-green, but soon it'd be the true blue Percy loved and cherished.

When the cadence softened, Percy knew she must've walked away from the bowl, probably to look for some more chocolate chips to add. This was his only chance to reach cookie heaven pre-oven time, and his fingers tapped against the leg of the table in excitement.

_Wait_.

That sounded, like, really cool.

Fingers continued to tap, and then they began to pat and hit and beat and thump until Percy, the poor ADHD-ridden little boy, was distracted beyond belief. Lost in his music, he almost overlooked the moment when he could no longer hear light singing in the distant background. Almost.

Percy froze. His entire body froze, and he was positive that he stopped breathing for a few seconds. He heard footsteps come into range and saw black flip-flops underneath the edge of checkered cloth; his blunt nails dug into the wooden leg, and he covered his eyes with a spare hand.

The flip-flops squeaked a bit from sliding on the floor, and Percy felt a small gust of air tousle his hair from the cloth being lifted. He squeezed his eyes together tighter._ I am invisible you can't see me._

A minute passed or so, and Percy thought he had managed to trick his mom. He did it. He totally did it. Spreading his fingers, he took a moment to peek through them before shutting them again real quick.

"Percy."

_I am invisible you can't see me._

"...Percy."

_I am actually Harry Potter with his cloak of invisibility._

"Oh my, I guess I was wrong. Percy isn't here. What a shame."

_Success._

"I guess if he isn't here, then he can't eat the cookies I'm baking."

_Wait. What?_

"Might as well give them to the kids next door."

This was urgent. Either he blew his cover now, or those snotty twins next door were going to get _his_ cookies. That couldn't happen. He wouldn't allow it.

Percy felt another gust of wind as the cloth lowered, and he heard his mom squeak away.

"MOM DON'T GIVE IT TO THEM!" He slid out from underneath the table like a penguin and rushed to his mother, who looked... smug?

"Percy, where have you been? I was looking everywhere for you!" Oh no, had he really caused this much distress?

"This might sound crazy, but I was invisible under the table."

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

Percy took a deep breath. "It was something I picked up, but anyway, Mom, please don't give them the cookies."

"Then who should I give them to?"

"Me!" He pointed at himself to get his point across. He also added in a little smile.

Sally crossed her arms. "I'm not sure if I'm a fan of giving conniving _thieves_ cookies, young man."

Okay, so Percy had no idea what exactly conniving meant, but judging by his mom's tone and how it was used with thief, it was definitely a verb. Or was it an adjective? A noun? English wasn't Percy's strong suit.

Anyway, Percy knew it meant something bad. And Percy knew that his mom knew that he was going to try to eat the batter when she wasn't looking. But the thing is...

"...how did you know?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm your mother, Percy," she gave him a smile and continued, "mothers know everything."

Of course. Percy forgot that he was indeed a "troubled kid" and usually when his mom walked away from a bowl of cookie dough, it was to check up on him.

Time to bring out the big guns. "But, _mommy_—"

"Percy—"

"Can't I just have a little bit—"

She gave him _that look_ and that was when he knew he had lost the battle.

xxx

"There's a reason I put the tray on top of the shelf, honey," she started, moving the blue confectionaries out of his reach."It's to keep little gremlins like you from stealing my precious cookies." She said playfully, lightly tapping the tip of her son's nose with the whisk.

And Percy being Percy, tried his best to lick the batter off, tongue and all.

* * *

It's about five in the morning and Percy is awake, watching old cartoons in the living room on a couch that badly needed to be replaced.

"The sash wringing... the trash thinging... mash flinging... the flash springing, bringing the-the crash thinging the..."

"Hash-slinging slasher," the sixteen year old whispers to himself. He's made a make-shift fort with the couch, a couple of blankets, and a few pillows. Half-opened bags of chips are an arm lengths away, and there's probably enough root beer to last him a lifetime.

It's his own little dude-corner, and it's _awesome_.

"SQUAWK!"

Percy groans. He may have his fort, but having to bird-sit while his parents are out on a date— who still have yet to come back— was not at all awesome in the slightest. Percy didn't enjoy birds in general; they're loud and annoying and get in the way when he rides Blackjack, so he had no idea why Sally and Paul got a bird as a pet out of everything else.

Honestly, an aquarium would've been a lot classier.

The bird, named Stympy, and him don't get along. Whenever Percy decides to get up and walk around, he can feel the bird's beady black eyes staring at him, and it creeps him out; then, after a prolonged silence of _oh my gods he's staring at me_ and _why did I agree to do this_, Stympy full-out screeches, and the sounds that can come out of the bird's beak terrifies him. But still, Percy is bird-sitting because if Stympy is left alone for more than a few hours, he'll start tearing his feathers out. (Sally and Paul realized this once they came home to a half-bald parakeet.)

Percy sighs and stands up, walking toward the bird-cage and cautiously sliding an apple slice through the golden bars. If he wasn't careful enough, Stympy would snap and cut his finger (read: again), and Percy's supply of Finding Nemo band-aids were too low to handle another injury.

"I swear," Percy mutters to the bird, "I'll sic Mrs. O'Leary on you. See how you like that, you annoying little chicken nugget—" Stympy twists his neck and kicks the door of his cage. Percy flinches in surprise. He, savior of the modern world, flinched because of an obnoxiously yellow parakeet.

Percy sighs. This was an all time low for him. He could already hear Annabeth laughing at him all the way from Camp Half-Blood.

xxx

Half an hour later, Stympy continues to make strange noises, Percy's somehow all out of chips, and Sally and Paul still aren't home yet. It's okay for Percy to worry a bit, right? With the TV off (the Spongebob marathon had ended early to his disgust), the teen sits in his fort, listening to an alternative rock station on the radio. Percy wipes a thumb over his last drachma; he'd been meaning to use it to talk to Annabeth, but right now, he's seriously worrying about his mom.

_Annabeth's a big girl_, Percy thinks to himself,_ she doesn't need me to check up on her_.

With that, Percy walks over to the sliding door, opening it and stepping out onto the balcony, switching from drum beats and guitar solos to car honks and loud accents. Believe it or not, there aren't too many people on the streets at this time— traffic would start picking up around six—and Percy severely doubts that anyone would take the time to look up at apartments lined with balconies. Picking up the water bottle near the moonlace, he sprays the air in front of him, hoping the rising sun emitted enough sunlight.

"Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering." A small rainbow appears, and Percy throws in a drachma. The gold coin flies through the air and disappears into the mist.

"Sally Jackson." Like magic, a scene materializes before him. Percy lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he watches the couple in front of him laugh. She's okay and with Paul. They're both okay. He's thinking of something to say, maybe something simple like_ Hey guys_, or he could play the worried child card and be like _Where have you two been? I've been worried sick!_

Papers and leaflets are scattered on the table they're sitting at among half-empty coffee mugs and a box of chocolate. Percy raises an eyebrow; they're too busy laughing to notice him. Percy settles on starting off with a joke and say _What are you crazy kids up to?_, which he knew would cause Paul to become a blabbering mess, but then he decides not to, because he sees his mom with the biggest smile on her face that he had seen in a long time, blue eyes sparkling. And he sees Paul looking more carefree than in all of the three years he had known him.

So instead, Percy grins and swipes a hand through the mist, cutting off the message. _Mom and Paul are much better than just okay_, Percy muses as he walks back into the living room. The golden band on Sally's ring finger and Paul's half-buttoned shirt told the whole story.

xxx

Percy doesn't know what time it is nor does he care, because he is hungry and if he doesn't find something to eat soon, he's positive he's going to die. He's only slightly exaggerating. Shuffling across old carpet to worn-out tile, he enters the kitchen and goes straight to the fridge. Some leftovers from last night's dinner catch his eye, but that would require him to heat it up in the microwave. He was looking for something that could take less than ten seconds to prepare. There was nothing in there of the sort.

He turns around, resting his back on the closed fridge, and groans. _There's nothing to eat_. Percy looks through the cupboards as well, but they're out of Lucky Charms, and he really didn't want to try grown-up cereal just yet. Another drawn-out groan later, Percy accepts his fate, walking out of the kitchen and back to the living room, but not before stubbing his pinkie toe on a table leg.

Percy hisses, "Son of a gorgon." Resting an elbow on the table, he examines his red toe. He's been through worse, after all, but a stubbed toe always made him question that. Setting down his foot gently, he takes a moment to glare at the evil table.

"Oh my gods!" he exclaims, eyes wide. "There's a plate! Food!" Hands reach out and grab the small plate topped with tin foil. How had he not noticed this before? He finds a note attached to the tin foil, and it takes him a moment to decipher the blue ink.

_Percy,_

_Here's a little treat for saving the world._

_Love, Mom_

_PS. I knew you could do it!_

Percy takes off the foil like a veil, slowly and carefully, and gasps at what's underneath. He finally got them. Finally.

The New York skyline may have been full of oranges and reds, but the only thing Percy was interested in was blue.

* * *

_Sweet, sweet, sweet victory yeah._

* * *

**So I decided to rewrite _Cookie Caper_ because it made me cringe every time I looked at it. And here we are. ****(How many Spongebob references did I make in this?)**

**I would also like to say that "true blue" is an actual shade of blue.**

**True Blue Cookies and Sweet Victories.**

**~Taffeh**

**PS. I actually did research on this, on _Spongebob_ of all things**

**EDIT: This was totally meant to be posted on August 18th. Happy 16th (again) birthday Percy!**


End file.
